


13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

by Narnvaeron



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Caring Thranduil, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lesbian Sex, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narnvaeron/pseuds/Narnvaeron
Summary: A bunch of reader-insert one-shots based on the daily prompts.
Relationships: Kíli (Tolkien)/Reader, Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Thranduil (Tolkien)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. Potion (Kíli)

„You did what?!” Kíli’s voice turned out high-pitched when he heard your recent confession, the utter disbelief clearly visible in his eyes.

At first you thought that he might get angry at you after revealing the truth, that he might think of you as silly and irresponsible but his eyes held no anger—only the honest perplexion. Although he still did not understand your motives, he was willing to get to know them and the weight of his gaze upon your shoulders proved that there was nothing more he could wish for in that very moment, than to see the whole situation through your eyes. Surprising, that is, considering the fact that the eerie roars coming from the other side of the stone wall were still as close as before.

“I bought it,” you admitted quietly and ran your fingers through the hair when a cold droplet landed at the top of your head. “I ordered it and drank it—yes, to the very last drop.”

There was a guilt in your voice and the goosebumps on your skin. The latter was caused by the low temperature and damp air in the cave you were currently stuck in, the unpleasant surroundings not making the confession easier in the slightest.

Kíli stumbled when an enormous strength pushed at the cave’s opening from the other side, now blocked by the heavy stone the Dwarf was leaning on in an attempt to keep the gates closed for long enough that the creature would resign and leave you be. Escaping it was only a part of your problem as you split from the rest of the Company, finding a place to hide was a little bit harder but none of it could compare to the amount of nerves you lost while trying to convince him to not fight the monster from the woods.

Kíli knew better than to flee from a fight but the sounds of desperation in your tone managed to make him rethink the choice and eventually decide to focus more on finding a safe place for you, rather than to risk his life trying to protect you. Who would take care of you if he got hurt, after all?

Right now, however, he could not believe his own ears, your words seemingly a complete nonsense. It took him a while before he was able to mouth a coherent sentence:

“Why would you buy any suspicious potions from even more suspicious wandering magicians who might not even be magicians in the first place?” he asked in disbelief. “What if you get poisoned or worse, did you think about it?”

And to think that Kíli, of all the people, would be giving you lectures. This time, however, you could not deny that he was right and your decision was not the wisest. It did seem like it back then, though.

“He was quite convincing,” you explained, only now realising that it sounded way better in your head. “And I was… desperate, I suppose.”

Kíli groaned when the creature pushed again—but stood his ground firmly. The chaos of emotions flowing through his head was apparently beneficial for his strength and it only made your stomach clench with anxiety. Without him, you would definitely be lost and perhaps dead somewhere in the forest and it pained your pride.

There was only one more time when the monster tried to get inside the cave before walking away, its heavy steps echoing on the ground covered with freshly fallen leaves. You were both silent, eavesdropping and hoping that it won’t come back with company. For a long moment, nothing happened and when Kíli decided to speak again, his voice caused you to jolt on the place.

“Explain.”

It was not an order but a plea, the worry in his eyes and the stinging sensation in his head that he had failed you. Since the day he confessed his love for you, he vowed to protect you from everything bad and now realized that he failed miserably. He left you when you needed him the most, he did not provide you enough support, otherwise you would never reach for this kind of drastic measures. What were you trying to achieve, anyways?

“We should go back and look for the Com—“

“No,” he interrupted and pointed a finger at the ground. “We will not leave this place until you tell me what happened.”

Although he sounded unusually harsh, you noticed how glassy his eyes became. There was no way you could convince him otherwise and so, you felt your arms limp against your sides, aware that whatever you say now, it would most likely change his opinion on you.

Droplets of cold water fell down to the small puddles at your feet, the cold air embracing your bare arms like a wicked claws and your heartbeat louder than most days. Kíli waited patiently for you to start.

“I was scared,” you admitted slowly, carefully picking the next words which echoed in a broken whisper. “I was scared almost every day during the journey. Watching you all being so brave and confident only made me realize how really scared I was. How I was nowhere like you… And then we were walking through that village and I spotted a magician—or should I say, he spotted me first and offered help. There was this potion in his bag which was supposed to make me ‘expand’. It could expand any feature I wanted, any personality trait could be increased so naturally, considering the current events, I decided to give it a try. I wanted my courage to grow so big that the fear would cower in its shadow, so I could finally fight with you side by side and not feel like I’ll faint in any moment.” You chuckled sadly. “I thought it might help but then those creatures attacked us and I realized I didn’t feel even slightly braver! Apparently it didn’t work and now that you know the truth I’m not only a coward but a fool also.”

During the whole story, Kíli was staring at you with wide open eyes. When you finished and expected him to scold you for this behaviour, he surprised you with the sentence you would last expect to hear from him in that situation, and which managed to squeeze your heart in an invisible fist.

“Oh, my love… You have no idea how scared I am most of the time.”

Blinking few times, you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, unsure how to respond.

“You are scared?” you asked, completely puzzled. “You, of all the Dwarves, the most reckless one, the one who was ready to throw himself down this monster’s throat just to win a fight? Am I supposed to believe it?”

“You don’t have to believe it if you don’t want to.” A small smile appeared on his face. “But yes, that’s the truth. Listen, being fearless and being brave are completely different things. You might not feel an ounce of fear in your whole life (and I suppose this is what being Thorin is like, but you’d have to ask him, not me) or you can be afraid and still do your thing scared.” He shrugged. “I think this is what life is about and although I don’t like to point my age out, I dare to say I’ve got longer experience in such than you.”

“Impossible,” you replied, not wholly convinced. “I saw you on a battlefield, there’s not a single sign of you being scared even for a moment. When was the last time you were truly frightened even?”

“No need to look back too far in time! I’d say an hour ago was a pretty reasonable time to be scared shitless. When I saw this creature galloping out of the woods in your direction, I genuinely got afraid that I might lose you. And I don’t know what would I do if that ever happened.”

The sincerity in his tone caused you to believe him, even if his words were still hard to comprehend.

Kíli approached you slowly and caressed your cheek with his thumb, the gentle gesture soothing your nerves. He said it many times, how there was no possibility for him to be mad at you and you had to admit that it must have been true. The amount of patience he held for you was endless, just like bottomless was his heart full of love for you only.

“Do you mean that?” you wondered hesitantly.

“Of course I do. That’s why, please, I beg of you, never do this kind of thing again, alright? You’re already perfect, if you were also completely fearless, the Middle Earth wouldn’t be able to withstand your greatness!”

“Silly!” You laughed.

“I mean it!”

His hug was strong and warm, and he held you in place, allowing you to bury your face in his hair. Only then, in the utter silence of the abandoned cave, you realized how loud was the beating of his heart and thought that maybe, just maybe Kíli was right. Overcoming your fears for the ones you loved seemed like much greater achievement than not being able to feel them at all.


	2. Haunted Building (Tauriel)

You could still recall the excitement flowing through your veins like a molten gold, the sweet buzzing in your heart and the warm squeeze in your stomach when you finally heard the words you were dreaming about for so long now. It was hard to comprehend that they were not part of your wild imagination, nor another made up scenario you created in your head right before falling asleep—those were actually real. Her offer was honest and it was no kind of joke, you did not misunderstand anything from the very direct and simple invitation, it was no mistake.

Tauriel truly asked you to join her in the amusement park next Tuesday.

However, right when the very first wave of bliss eventually faded away, you started to worry and as the time passed, the anxiety growing in your mind seemed to expand, almost completely blinding the previous joy. Countless questions piled, one more ridiculous than another but every single one of them occupying your thoughts for longer than you would want it to. It was enough to be stressed about meeting with the prettiest, the most talented and charismatic girl in your university—or so you considered her—worrying about any other, more or less possible scenario happening during that day was unnecessary for your already cluttered head.

What if she did not mean only you two, but some of her other friends also? There were always people surrounding her, two particularly handsome and apparently polar opposite boys accompanying her more often than the others. What if it was supposed to be simply a group meeting? What if you would make a fool of yourself one way or another? And most importantly, what if she did not see you the same way you saw her?

You barely managed to fall asleep for the whole hour at least during the night before, now nowhere near excited but rather scared of what was coming up. It was either the best opportunity to finally start talking to her about something less trivial or to prove her that you were not worth her time. Your worry increased as the inevitable hour was getting closer and closer and it peaked when you were standing at the amusement park’s main gate.

Although the afternoon was chilly, there was a lot of people on the carousels, buying deliciously smelling snacks and running from one attraction to another in a hurry. The sky became dark some time ago but it only made all the decorations and lanterns light more brightly, the variety of sounds and colours surrounding you from every direction. Fallen leaves rustled on the wind, the trees reached their branches up like a shadowy claws of some nightmare creatures and the overwhelming aura of upcoming Halloween was visible in every single corner of the fair.

Still, all you could think of was her. What are you going to talk about? Will Legolas be there, too? Perhaps you should eat something before going out, your stomach was starting to grumble but the stress prevented you from eating anything quite successfully. You were present few minutes ahead of time (speaking of making a good first impression) and you felt like waiting for her will be the worst part of it all. Once you start to talk, things should go smooth from that point.

Right…?

“There you are!” Tauriel’s voice cut through the cacophony of mechanical melodies, children’s giggling and screams of those who dared to try the hammer ride, and it was both the most breath-taking and frightening moment of your life. Slowly, you spun around to face her and saw the gentle smile on her sharp features. “I started to worry you won’t come.”

Quick peek over her shoulder proved you that she had no company this time. Just you and her.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You sighed with relief after your recent discovery. “I told you I’ll be here. Besides, I’d let you know beforehand if something happened.”

“I’m glad it didn’t then.” She looked at the booth you were standing next to and eyed the spooky themed candies before continuing. “Should we head to the main attraction of the day or do you want to buy something?”

Even though you liked the bat-shaped lollipop, you have forgotten about it already and agreed to go with her. The screams of those stuck on the rollercoaster did not create the most romantic mood but all you could think of was how picturesque her long hair looked in this peculiar scenery, ginger colour fitting her green blouse perfectly.

You wondered how would it feel to run your fingers through them.

***

The house of mirrors was an excellent choice for the first attraction to attend to, and you were proud that it was your idea to try it out. It was not as extreme as some rides and you had an opportunity to hear Tauriel laugh out loud, which happened to be yet another of her many advantages—her voice so carefree and fresh like a spring morning. Or maybe, you were simply growing too poetical around her.

“The labyrinth was fun,” she stated once you were out of the hall. “But I have to admit I lost the tracks at some point.”

“And why didn’t you tell me so? I told you I can find a way out just fine.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the great first impression. Plus, I was supposed to be the guide, right?” She winked at you.

“Next time I’m going to be the guide. No getting lost and certainly no mirrors which make your face look like a smashed potato.”

Tauriel chuckled and agreed with your words.

“Certainly. But you have to admit, the one which made us really tall was interesting. I suppose I could get used to being that tall.”

“It would suit you well,” you nodded and felt the next sentence leave past your lips before you managed to stop it. “And your adorable pointy ears.”

Tauriel suddenly stood still and reached her ears with the hands, replying to you before the wave of embarrassment managed to drown you completely:

“Do you really think they’re pointy?” She touched the tips, her expression unreadable.

Vaguely gesturing, you tried to desperately think of an answer which would not discredit you in her eyes.

“I think they’re pretty. A little bit pointy, yes, but I always thought it gives you this mystical look. Like an elf or something…” With every next word, your tone was becoming quieter, until you finished your sentence with a forced smile, hoping that you managed to convince her that you meant no harm.

For a moment, she did not answer you, instead tilting her head to the side and then lightening up, before saying:

“Well then, thank you for the compliment. Still, I believe they’re not even partly as ravishing as your eyes, my dear.”

***

Contrary to the previous idea, the one Tauriel came up with appeared as more concerning in your opinion. It was not the matter of being scared per se, but rather the possibility of doing something reckless in front of her. You wanted her to like you, to think of you as no less interesting than all the boys she was surrounded with, and even though you knew that you cared about her opinion way more than you should, it was impossible to stop. Not now, when your repressed feelings were finally finding a way out. It could be the only one opportunity to impress her and you were certainly not going to waste it on anxiety.

Or so you thought.

“It’s a really, really bad idea,” you whispered after crossing yet another corridor in the haunted house. “I don’t like it at all, it’s way too quiet.”

“It can only mean one thing,” Tauriel pointed out matter-of-factly. “Soon we’ll witness something spooky.”

Holding your breath, you did your best to not let the heart jump out of your ribcage. You were as close to Tauriel as possible, naturally, keeping in mind to not cross the line of her personal space. As much as you wanted to hold her hand, you were not sure if she would approve it. The corridor, on the other hand, seemed to be endless, decorated in fake webs, some splattered blood and other remotely disturbing decorations, none of which jumped on you all of a sudden.

The booth with candies was much more entertaining but right now there was no coming back, nor time to complain.

Tauriel stopped abruptly and placed a finger to her lips, only then pointing at the closed door you reached to. There was no way it was going to be simply a part of decorations, you admitted bitterly, surely you were being watched and had to experience a pitiful attempt to frighten you based on primal, human instincts and yet—

You did not expect for the hairy monster to jump at you so suddenly but even less did you expect Tauriel to grab your hand, shield you with her body and pull you after herself further into the corridor. From the perspective of running, all the stuffed creatures were not as scary as they could be if you paid the whole attention to them and even if you did, Tauriel’s fingers closed on your wrist were enough to make you focus on something completely, completely different.

She was holding your hand, Tauriel was holding your cold, clammy hand as you both ran through the haunted house, avoiding the jump scares and traps and laughing so hard that your stomach started to hurt. Maybe it was the nerves which made you act so ridiculously or maybe in that moment you were ironically the happiest person on the whole planet, when nothing but you two mattered—you, your connected hands and the silly run through the corridor full of plastic figures and eerie sounds.

No kind of love tunnel could bring as much adoration from you as the haunted house on that windy, autumn afternoon.

When you finally managed to find a way out, you noticed how Tauriel’s cheeks were slightly redden from the effort and emotions but the smile on her face still lasted and the spark of joy present in her gaze as she looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked and let go of your hand, muttering. “Sorry for your sleeve.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I suppose I’ve had enough for one day.”

“And for the rest of my life, too,” she admitted and noticing your puzzled expression, quickly added. “I’m not really fond of those places, you know. But I can’t say this idea wasn’t successful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing your knight in shining armour against that bear-like-whatever was quite entertaining.”

This time you were more than sure that she winked at you, there was no mistake, her playful expression proved that well.

“Oh…” you were speechless. “Well then, I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because next time I’m going to use my marvellous skills with a bow and arrow to slay the dragon. But first, what would my princess say for a cup of mulled wine?”

You allowed her fingers to meet yours in a delicate grasp, when you slowly headed back to the food booths, all the anxiety leaving you as soon as you felt the cold air on your skin and Tauriel’s hand upon yours once again.

“She’d like that,” you nodded. “Very much so.”


	3. Monster (Thranduil)

During many years of your lone journey through the Middle Earth, you have heard many words describing the King of Mirkwood. Some of them revealed the hidden fear of the Elvenking, some included fascination and some said that he did not even exist in the first place, that he was a made up story for children, just like his whole kingdom. However, there was one term you could not so quickly forget, the one engraved in your memory for some peculiar reason—the one you repeated to yourself while crossing the borders of Mirkwood, wary of what you might encounter.

The rumour that the Elvenking was a heartless monster.

You were familiar with the infamous stories on how he paid no mind to those in need, how little did their lives mean to him, how his egoistic nature caused him to fight for what he believed was right only, how selfish was his attitude and how he considered his kin as above everyone else. Perhaps you would eventually believe in them all if you did not know better than to listen every rumour you hear along the way. Words spread faster than a diseases, every next one changed a little by the mouth they were spoken from and so, you wondered how much of a truth they actually contained.

Contrary to what you imagined to see, the Elvenking did not resemble any kind of monster in the slightest. His grace and pride was undeniable, his beauty outstanding and his voice deeply serene. The weight of his gaze upon you seemed to be enough to crash you to the ground but instead of that, you were invited to the feast as a guest. A storyteller, the one who could share the most recent news about the world outside of the kingdom.

He did not act like a monster when he shared his people’s food and wine with you, neither did he act like one when he was listening to you talking, lazy sight carefully picking out every single detail of your appearance. Firen was the only way he addressed you endlessly, no matter how many opportunities you took to remind him your real name.

You have lost the track of time soon after arriving to Mirkwood, all days melting together like one, the kingdom surrounding you so magical that you forgot about all the evil creeping outside. There was no flesh eating creatures under the magnificent roof with countless waterfalls flowing down the halls. There was no fear between the ancient pages of the books you were eventually allowed to look at. There was no tears during the evening feasts in the forests. There was no pain in dancing all night long in the pale starlight.

There was only calmness filling your soul, the steady rhythm of your beating heart and the utter peace of your soul where apparently nothing bad could reach you. Walking in a dream, you found yourself falling in love with the world you did not belong to and to your surprising notice, you could experience all of it simply because the Elvenking—Thranduil, as you learned—allowed you to.

Simply because his heart was not as cold as the rumours claimed it to be.

“Tell me about your ancestors, firen,” he ordered on one particularly warm day, when the first, vivid green leaves were poking their tips out from the thin branches. It was an early morning, the fog still not fading in the sunlight and it was an accident that you stumbled upon each other—the Elvenking attending his usual morning stroll and you, still not going to sleep after a truly interesting lecture you managed to find in the library, written in a language you understood.

“About my family?” you wondered. “With all due respect, I’m not sure if I can interest you with this kind of story, My Lord. They are no royalty.”

“If I wanted to listen about royalty, I would simply take a look upon the letters my father left me.” His voice was haughty yet soft, like a fresh rime. “I was wondering what kind of people could beget a woman willing to travel alone through the foreign lands.”

“Are you thinking about lunatics or heroes?”

He did not smile at your little joke, but something in his expression changed. Perhaps your words did amuse him, which might be the reason why he apparently enjoyed your company, or maybe it was just the small bullfinch sitting on a nearby branch which caught his attention.

“I suppose we are to find out about that,” he barely whispered, not taking his gaze off the bird.

And so, you started talking, carefully choosing what to say next so you would not bore him with this not so exciting story. Living for as long as all Elves did, you would be surprised if he thought of any part of your speech as even remotely interesting. He has seen it all and much more, already, he has witnessed war, loss and love, he had an adult son and once a wife also. Your history, no matter how much could it mean to you, would soon be nothing but a blink of an eye for him, just as fleeting the seasons were.

You were a whisper on the wind, made to be heard by his ear and eventually fade out.

“Give me your hand.” The command caused you to stop talking in a middle of the sentence and look at the Elvenking confused. A quick motion of his arm caused an expensive robes to move gracefully before he showed what he expected from you. “Like that.”

You did as you were told, slowly outstretching your arm and only then noticing how the bullfinch tilted its head to the right and jumped few times on the branch before opening wings and swiftly landing at Thranduil’s open palm. It was a breath-taking view to observe, the trust of the small creature completely unexpected. You stood in the same position, listening as the Elvenking started talking, while gently stroking the bird’s head with his index finger.

“There is beauty in simplicity, something a race of Men often tends to forget about. Ironically, since they are the ones who should cherish it the most, the gentle passing of time. I find your admiration to save as many moments as possible as equally pointless and fascinating. To know that one day your whole existence will turn into ashes brings out the most primal instincts—but only the wise can focus on the beauty of a fleeting moment. A single memory.”

Slowly, he reached to you and you held your breath when the bird cautiously jumped from his hand onto yours, it’s tiny feet gently tickling your skin and the smile appearing on your lips.

“Not many of the race of Men can find a beauty in evanescence.” Thranduil continued, watching you staring at the bullfinch as if it was the first time in your whole life that you experienced such a moment. “It is a rare ability among those who do not feel the impact of time and even rarer in those who are the most prone to it.”

The bird on your hand with its adorably red belly was fascinating enough that you did not notice the way the Elvenking looked at you, aware that he was going to savour this single image in his memory for many, many thousands of years in the future.

***

Thranduil was not a monster, although he understood why many were ready to address him as such. He was aware of his doings, of his regrets and faults but he also knew how much does it take to carry the weight of the necessity. Men were foolish, easily led by their own emotions which changed as quickly as the wind, and it was their doom they always brought upon themselves. Perspective makes history look different, the deeds appearing in a light nobody would expect them to centuries ago and it was the ability their kind lacked.

How could they possibly understand what was wise and what not, if they never truly lived to face the consequences of their own actions? If they had no idea what would their descendants have to endure?

The human he decided to invite to his kingdom was no less blind than the rest of her kind, nevertheless he found her presence and stories amusing. It was different; her point of view, the news she brought from the lands far on the east, and he found himself roaming through the halls of his kingdom with head full of the images of her face and the sound of her voice. She talked about the beauty of the lake she stayed by one night in a way which made him feel like a fool. As if it was him, who was blind for this whole time and could not see the world in the same way she did.

Ironically, it was his eyes which were used to seeing more, looking through darkness and illusions.

There was a reflection of the setting sun in her eyes when she spoke about it, a picture so clear that he could almost touch it, as if he was witnessing it for the first time in his whole life. There was a melody in her tone when she was repeating the legends she heard along the way and for some reason he grew fond of it, the excitement being something he has forgotten long ago. There were not many things which could still surprise him, after all, there was nothing to look for, nothing to long for.

Except, perhaps, for the gentle softness of her lips when he imagined how would they feel against his. Would it be different and refreshing, just like her stories were? Would he still be able to enjoy it? Would the kiss bring out new palette of unnecessary emotions from her fragile heart?

He was never a monster, he told himself. The real monsters were out there, in the world, ready to slay the weaker, the ones of her kind. He would be selfish if he did not offer his help to those in need, if he did not provide the food supplies and wine for people from the Laketown who needed it the most after the terrifying dragon attack. The great serpent was the worst monster walking upon this lands and suddenly Thranduil felt grudge for everyone who dared to compare him to the vicious beast.

The Elvenking was never heartless, not in the moment when he was trying to protect his people from the mindless slaughter the Dwarves suffered in Erebor dozens of years ago, nor when he was ready to fight until his last breath to reclaim the gems of his wife—the last physical memory of her that he could still own. But especially not when he was kneeling on the cold, hard ground on the battlefield, holding the body of the human storyteller to his chest and listening to the silence where once her heartbeat was, the echo of a sword slicing the air where he was supposed to stand still loud in his mind, just like her desperate scream and a pitiful attempt to shield him.

Thranduil was never a monster but he knew better than anyone that he was, instead, a fool.


	4. Ghost (Thranduil)

“Why are you not asleep, little one?” The Elvenking’s voice wrapped its velvet fingers around your mind and gently brought you down on earth, back to the reality.

The night was warm, the moon fully round and low on the endless sky as you observed the trees dancing slowly to the silent rhythm of the dark. There was no wind to brush against your bare arms and yet, the air was clear and refreshing. Looking at the landscape in front of you, the now peaceful forest and the narrow stream flowing down in between the polished rocks felt as if you could drink the moonlight from the cold water.

The blissful taste of the stars upon your tongue.

“I thought I heard a ghost,” you admitted the truth, noticing the soft flutter of the long robes Thranduil was wearing as he approached you from behind.

Slowly, you turned to him to see his reaction but just as expected, there was none. He was looking at you in the same way he always did, with the same amount of reservation and haughtiness. It was only the tone of his voice which revealed curiosity.

“A ghost?”

You nodded.

“I was certain that your kind does not approve such, nor do they acknowledge their presence.”

“Most of them don’t, that’s true.” For a moment you grew silent, thinking about the right choice of words. “But I suppose they tend to see them differently than I do.”

The Elvenking passed by you, apparently heading to the stream’s direction, his steps slow but confident, the equal of almost two of yours. You observed him as he walked away, his long hair almost reflecting the moonlight, so ethereal that it seemed as if he was part of it himself. As if he was nothing more than a strand of light toughing the ground, gliding above its surface with an indescribable grace. Featherlike and glorious, not making a single sound—an embodiment of a perfect dream you did not want to wake up from.

“Tell me about it,” he spoke to you and you knew that it was an invitation for a walk.

Eventually, you obeyed and caught up with his pace.

“I had troubles falling asleep tonight,” you started slowly. “That’s why I decided to get some fresh air, it often helps to clear the mind from too much thoughts. However, when I crossed the gates and reached the forest, I heard something unusual. Or, to be more precise, I felt something strange.”

You peeked at his profile looking for any signs of disapprovement regarding your late night walks all by yourself where who knows what could lure in the darkness, but the Elvenking remained calm, apparently waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know how to explain that so it’d make sense, My Lord,” you sighed. “Whenever I told people about it, they never seemed to understand it, repeating that it was probably my imagination.”

“If you live long enough, you grow to realize that there are things beyond imagination, little one. No wonder that your kind could not appreciate it, they are simply too naïve for that.”

It was one of the greatest and most surprising compliments you have ever received from him and so, his words made you smile. You managed to learn how to listen to what he was saying to understand his intentions beneath, and although it took you many years of misunderstandings and piling questions, you were satisfied with the result. He never meant to harm you, especially not with his harsh words but it took a lot of patience to hear the meaning of silence in between them.

“I agree,” you admitted and your gaze involuntarily wandered to his perfectly shaped lips. You cleared your throat. “I believe I’ve seen many, many ghosts during my lifetime.”

There was a gap between the branches where the moonlight spilled on the grass, white as milk and translucent like a veil sewn from the droplets of the rain. When you stepped into it, Thranduil slowed down before completely stopping and taking a look up, at the stars above. The constellations were creating various shapes you still could not always name but the single sight at his focused face was enough to understand that he knew them all.

He remembered them all and missed them deeply.

“Where did you saw them?” he encouraged you to speak.

“Anywhere.” Was the simplest answer.

Sitting down upon one of the larger rocks, you eyed your surroundings, astonished that his mere presence seemed to ward off every kind of evil spirits. It was just you and him and the forest has never been as peaceful as that night.

“Sometimes I can sense them when I look through the books from your library,” you continued quietly. “They are there, in between the pages—a single note left in ink centuries ago by an anonymous stranger. Or the old paper crushing under my fingers, the very same one which must have been held many, many times before I could even think about touching it. Were they taken far away, on an adventures? Did the covers see the lands I can only observe on the maps? If they could speak our language, what would they say? What stories are they hiding? The pieces of soul of every person who left an impression upon them is still remaining here, in the same place, but it’s mute and I can only wonder about their secrets. I can only imagine what would those ghosts say.”

Focused on your own words, you did not notice when Thranduil stopped paying attention to the stars and instead, it was completely yours. He watched you play with your fingers and noticed the moonlight on your skin as your voice echoed in his mind, vivid and alive.

“I see them in the palace often,” you stated. “I see them in the old halls and in the polished stairs and I wonder, how many were there before me. How many memories did those halls remember, how many joys and tears, how many laughs and loves. How many lost friends and relatives. How many of them are now nothing but an inaudible whispers. And I can’t help but think that soon, we’re all eventually going to join them and become a memories, a ghosts of the past. Do you think anyone would be able to hear us then, My Lord?”

The Elvenking remained silent, noticing the tears glistening in your eyes, stuck in between the eyelashes. There were no words which could comfort you now, for nothing he would say would change the inevitable truth.

“I hear you now,” he whispered and reached to take your hand in his, the warm, soft skin warming up yours as he spoke with a delicate tremble in the same, stoic voice. “Even if the world will burn down and the forest will rot to the last root, even if the darkness will swallow it whole, I will still hear you. I will always hear you, my love.”


	5. Cemetery (Tauriel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Contains explicit sexual content.

Tauriel’s breast was heavy in your hand when you reached for it with trembling fingers, leaving open-mouthed kisses upon her collarbone, feeling the salty drop of sweat at the crook of her neck and listening to the obscene sound of her own fingers rubbing against your soaked folds. Laying on the side, your leg was wrapped around her hip, giving her just perfect access to your core, the sweet fluttering of anticipation causing you to gasp from time to time, inhaling the scent of her skin. You could not recall for how long have you been there, in this exact position, surrounded with white sheets and overwhelming pleasure; you could no longer count the amount of kisses you shared since the nightfall and to be completely honest, it was the latest of your worries.

She reassured you that nobody would come to her chambers at that hour and so she could devote herself to you wholly, her attention absolutely yours. After what seemed like hours, you realized that she did not lie in the slightest, although you had your doubts when you entered her room in the palace, tiptoeing the way from your own chambers.

There was a silent moan leaving past your lips when you felt her fingers brush in between the folds, smearing the slickness all around them to grant you even better pleasure. Slowly, you moved closer and hid your face in her hair, gulping as she barely ghosted over your swollen clit, the blissful, rhythmical squeezing in lower abdomen reminding you of the gradually building up climax. You craved her so bad but the shameful squelching successfully prevented you from sharing your deepest desires.

“What is wrong?” Tauriel whispered against your forehead and kissed your heated skin, which allowed you to notice that she was smiling. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” the answer which fell from your mouth was sudden, almost begging and as a proof you moved your hips few times, creating more friction where her hand slowed down. “No, please. Don’t stop.”

She teased your opening with a single finger but did not slid it inside, instead moving it forward and backward, forward and backward, forward and backward in an agonizingly slow pace, which only left you longing for more. You felt the urge to scream, to grab the sheets, to rut against her with all your might and finally come, her name spilling from your tongue like a prayer. Gently, you removed your hand from her breast, the one you previously cherished with wet kisses, and trailed it down her side, until you reached the ginger curls.

In a meantime, she managed to find an ideal rhythm of her finger brushing against your clit, the one which made you involuntarily hump against her and quietly gasp.

“I am enjoying this more than you can imagine, my sweetest,” she assured and kissed the tip of your nose. “And I do enjoy focusing on you.”

“Always so generous…” you sighed deeply, quickening the pace of your hips and covering her hand in your slick arousal.

“You are the first human I allowed in my bed.” She leaned to your ear and kissed the vulnerable skin behind it. “And the last one, I believe.”

“Oh, Tauriel, please—“

She watched your expression as you came, noticed how your toes curled and hips shook—how delightfully you moaned into her skin, trying to hold your voice from mewling too loud. She felt your pussy clench many times in a blinding act of pure pleasure and she realized how wonderfully connected you became, body against the body, soul against the soul.

No secrets, no limits, just a heart in an open hand.

Later on, Tauriel giggled into your hair, caressing your side and soothing your skin after the peak with the most loving gestures she could come up with.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, partly worried about her eventual answer, but still not stopping playing with her long fingers.

“I just realized that I feel like I was dancing,” she noted. “A cleansing, joyful experience for two souls to enjoy together.”

“Perhaps…” you had to agree that she made a fair point. “Although I suppose we were dancing on a cemetery of the Elvenking’s expectations.”

This time, Tauriel snorted with laugh and quickly covered her lips.


	6. Spiders (Thranduil)

Quiet knocking at the door echoed in the hall before disappearing into peaceful silence, where only the soft murmurs of the waterfalls performed their never-ending concert. The Elvenking shifted in his seat, the velvet sleeping robes decorated with millions of tiny violets created from silver threads flowing down his arms just like the cascades of his neatly brushed hair. Sitting by the desk in his own bedroom he resembled a marble statue; calm and splendid, the greatest feast for the mortals’ eyes.

He did not expect to have any visitors, nor business’ at that late hour and therefore remained on his place, gently turning the page of the book he was currently reading. Soft flame of the nearby candle danced on the blow of air when the door to his chamber were apparently opened without his permission and it was the moment when he exhaled deeply before taking a look over the shoulder to face an intruder and scold them for the interruption.

That is, until his gaze landed upon your frame, and immediately softened. The robes you received were still a little bit too long and pooled around your ankles, and Thranduil took a mental note to call a tailor to your room so you can wear a fitting outwear, even during a night. Still, it was not often that you appeared in his bedroom at such a late hour, especially considering the fact that you had to pass the guards and therefore create at least one rumour regarding your current relationship with the Elvenking.

He had heard the word ‘concubine’ whispered in the palace before but paid no attention to it. Not until you seemed to care.

“My Lord…” you started and he had to wave a hand toward the guard who checked whether your presence was truly required. Then, the door shut from outside.

“What is the matter?” Thranduil turned to you and you could see how the delicate, featherlike fabric covered his pale chest and exposed the deeply carved collarbones from under the neckline.

Goodness, how you wished you could kiss him there, to feel the soft, long hair tickle your cheek, to taste the radiant beating of his heart… Right now, however, your mind was more occupied with something completely else and so, instead of the ever so glorious appearance of the Elvenking, you focused on the case which brought you here in the first place.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting you,” you apologised politely. “I know it’s late and I definitely shouldn’t be coming here all alone, but there’s something I can’t deal with myself and I’d like to ask for your help, My Lord.”

“You came here no matter the consequences, so I reckon the situation must truly be urgent,” he stated matter-of-factly and you sighed with relief, now convinced that he won’t ignore you.

“Please, follow me. I swear if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t bother you.”

Eventually, Thranduil allowed you to lead him through the palace to the part he rarely ever visited. It was nowhere as spacious as his chambers and there was not that much moonlight sipping through the cave openings in the high roof, but it was no less comfortable. Or at least that is what he assumed, when he ordered to give you a room just for yourself as his guest.

When you placed a hand upon the door handle, suddenly you felt a wave of embarrassment rushing over you. What if you were exaggerating? Maybe he would think of you as worthless if you showed him this vulnerable side of yours? Until then, he seemed to value your presence—what if it was about to change? Still, it was too late to change your mind now and so, you decided to start with an explanation:

“I was just coming back from the springs when I noticed something in my bedroom… I know it’s nothing I couldn’t handle myself but…”

“Enough,” he interrupted. “No more talking, little one. Just let me in.”

You inhaled deeply, preparing for the worse and knowing better than to argue with your King. Hesitantly, you opened the door.

The spider sitting right above your bed was not the biggest you had an unpleasant opportunity to encounter and to be precise, it was one of the smallest. Perhaps he was still freshly an offspring, which could explain why did he wander that far from his nest, but it did not stop him from growing to the size of the cupboard standing by the opposite wall. Its countless eyes were shining in the dim light, legs firm and revealing the readiness to attack if needed. It did not move when you two wandered inside and closed the door behind you.

The Elvenking sighed and massaged his temple.

“Oh dear… I wonder how did it manage to get here unseen.”

“I have no idea, My Lord. But if you could just…” You gestured vaguely toward the creature. “I’d be very thankful.”

He did not notice your motion, though, too focused on the spider big enough to bite the head off your shoulders.

“I suppose this is still a child,” he stated. “It seems to be more scared of you than you are of it.”

“Certainly.” You nodded. “Still, I’d prefer if it was scared somewhere else. Shall I fetch you a glass, My Lord?”

He reached under his robes and pulled out a long, thin sword before gracefully swinging it in a single hand.

“With pleasure, little one. There is never too late for a glass of wine, after all.”


	7. Spell Book (Thorin)

Deadly silence fell upon the Company of Dwarves sitting around the campfire. In that moment, even the forest around them seemed to suddenly grow mute as the unexpected confession was made, the one nobody could predict. Every pair of curious eyes was now glued to the woman sitting with her legs crossed on the ground and nervously playing with her fingers, the intense nervousness hanging heavy in the air.

It was not the first time when the Company was interested in the newest member, one of the race of Men, so young comparing to their long lifespans yet no less motivated to help them with their mission. The task to reclaim the homeland of Erebor was of a great importance, after all, and you were taking it seriously from the very first day your roads met. The leader, Thorin Oakenshield, was apparently the only one suspicious about your so-called good will and clear intentions, never allowing himself to sleep peacefully whenever you were keeping a guard at night. During the days of the journey, he kept watching you discreetly, looking for any signs of betrayal—something which could finally give him a valuable answer for the same questions flowing through his head over and over again.

Why? Why were you trying so hard to help them? Why were you risking your life, when they promised you nothing but danger and creatures of the night creeping behind every corner? Why did you leave your home to join a band of infamous Dwarves? And how, for Mahal’s sake, were you supposed to be any way useful in that case?

For the first few weeks, you were fun to be around, you knew stories they were not familiar with and your sense of humour seemed to fit the one of Thorin’s nephews. You showed interest in Dwalin’s ways of fighting and your eyes grew huge whenever Balin was sharing one of his wisdoms. Still, when it came to any dangerous encounters, you were no more useful than the hobbit, or maybe even lesser. You grew tired way too soon, your long legs not used to wandering for so long, you could barely hold a sword and your aim was poor when it came to using a bow and arrow. The only thing Thorin considered as odd after spending a month with you among the rest of the Company was that he had never caught a glimpse of what were you so fiercely hiding in your bag, the one you carried with yourself everywhere you go.

***

It was a serene evening at the edge of a meadow, full of now closed flowers. The moon did not peek from behind the heavy clouds but it was not raining at least and so, Thorin considered it as a good time and place to take a rest. Tonight it was supposed to be your turn to take the watch, that is why he quickly decided to take an advantage of the loudly snoring comrades and ask you few questions face to face.

You surprised him, though, when he approached you and sat heavily by your side.

“You rarely rest, sir,” you noticed and observed the spark of puzzlement in his eyes. In the dark of the night, they seemed almost completely black, so much unlike the bright blue whenever sunlight fell upon them.

“I will rest once we reach our destination.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

The way you looked at him expectantly, and with a hint of sadness beneath the mask of daily exhaustion caused him to lick his lips, the taste of ale still present between the thick hair of his beard and moustache. You seemed to be honest and Thorin lived for long enough to be able to point at those who were trying to wrong him.

“Does that surprise you?” he answered your question with another.

“No. When I think about it, not in the slightest.” You shrugged. “I just thought I managed to prove my loyalty.”

“How so?”

“By staying there with you and helping when needed.”

Thorin shushed you with a single raise of his hand. It was much bigger than yours, apparently capable of fitting yours in completely—a perfect solution for the upcoming cool, autumn days. You quickly dismissed the thought.

“Do not get me wrong but the mere fact that you are still here does not prove anything. On the contrary.”

“Do you believe I’m a spy then?”

“I said no such thing.”

“That’s what you insinuated, sir.”

“I simply do not understand you…” He paused for a while, listening to the crickets in the grass. “Your motives, your goals. You said you wanted to help but how do you intend to do it without an ability to protect yourself? If not for Dwalin’s reflexes, you would be long dead.”

You remained silent and involuntarily squeezed the fabric of your bag, which was now resting against your leg. Suddenly, it seemed to grow heavy, just like your head, full of worries and wonders. Thorin’s words hurt you, that was true, but you could also understand him and his point of view.

If only the reality was so easy to explain.

“How do you want to prove yourself worthy, human?” His tone was authoritative and you could no longer bear the intensity of his gaze upon you.

Loud snoring did not fog your mind, the chaos of thoughts making it almost impossible to think straight. You did not have an answer for that question and you were still afraid to reveal the truth, however, you knew that you could not hide it forever. Not from the clever sight of Thorin.

Hesitantly, you reached to your bag and grabbed the hard cover of the book you were carrying but in the exact same moment when you took it out and the dim light of the fireplace fell upon it, there was a loud, ominous blowing in the horns echoing from behind your back.

Thorin quickly stood up, just like the rest of the Company was immediately rushing to grab their weapons, as if they were never asleep in the first place. Whatever kind of enemy you were going to face now, they surely outnumbered you. The book was still resting in your hand when everyone prepared for the battle and when you opened it on the page marked with a bird’s feather, you knew that it was the end of the secrets.

The group of orcs which attacked you was not as countless as you were afraid of and apparently the brave Dwarves knew how to handle them, even after being abruptly awakened. The lack of daylight did not make it easier for you to avoid the arrows and blows from the axes, just like the high grasses and roots peeking from the ground did not create a very comfortable field for a fight. This time, however, you decided not to flee nor to hide your doings from the rest of the Company members who happened to be around you in the same time and so, you quickly recalled the spells from the book to shield yourself and them if necessary. 

However, when you heard Ori’s desperate cry for Thorin from afar, your focus was lost and you almost lost the balance in your legs when the orc’s axe hit the magical shield you hid under. You managed to stand your ground and used all your force to push him away, enough to give you space to run to the direction where you believed Thorin must have been, most likely fighting one of the strongest opponents, as he always did.

When you ran to the edge of the forest, you noticed him clashing swords with an enormous and particularly horrifying looking orc. They were both moving fast and aiming to kill—certainly not a place for you to interrupt. Quickly, you looked into the book to find a perfect spell, something which could stop the creature before Thorin would get seriously injured, anything which could help you save him… Whatever it takes.

Thorin fell down on his back after a heavy blow was aimed at him and the groan of pain he let out was like a bucket of cold water thrown on your head. You could no longer wait and simply watch, you had to do something right now and so, you muttered the first spell which seemed to be the most suitable in this situation—the one you have never used before.

Dark smoke fell from your fingertips and glided right above the ground to the orc who lifted his weapon ready to attack, but before he managed to swing the sword, dense fog blinded him and bound his limbs until you could no longer recognize his shape from behind the thick mist. Then, you heard a bloodcurdling shriek, the one which almost made you cower in fear of what have you just done, if not the constantly repeating thought that you had to help Thorin, that you had to save him.

Eventually, it was Thorin who stood on his legs, grabbed the sword and blindly stabbed the orc, finishing his agonizing moans with a single cut. Only then, the smoke seemed to thin and withdrew, coming back to you in a blink of an eye and disappearing in our hand, the one still held above the open spell book.

Thorin looked at you with wide open eyes and unreadable expression, the corpse of an orc motionless by his feet and bloody sword in his hand.

***

Sitting around the campfire, members of the Company were tending their wounds and exchanging some of the most interesting moments of the battle they have just won. Naturally, the most excited were Fíli and Kíli, bragging about how many orcs did they slaughter tonight. Thorin was silent and although his gaze was directed at the fire, you were the only one who occupied his thoughts at that moment.

“What was that?” he asked suddenly and the heroic stories quieted down, the Company looking at him first before realizing that his question was directed toward you, sitting at the opposite side of the campfire.

You were speechless, not knowing where to start and the haughty tone of his voice not making it easier for you.

“What was that?” he hissed. “For how long were you able to make this tricks?”

This time you managed to take the book out of the bag, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes upon you. You showed it to Thorin in the light of the fire; the heavy cover and engraved symbols at the front.

“Since I bought this spell book,” you confessed. “At first I didn’t know what’s what. There was a wandering merchant in my town and he offered me a low price for that book. I thought it was interesting, it seemed antique and I believed it may contain some interesting stories but apparently…”

“Apparently it was a book full of black magic spells,” Thorin finished for you and you lowered your head in shame. “How could you be so reckless?” He spat. “How could you be so near-sighed and ignorant? Do you have any idea of all the calamities you could bring upon us with that foul thing?”

You felt like a scolded child now, tears picking at the corners of your eyes. Perhaps Thorin was right, you should have never bought it, just like you should have never jeopardize the Company during their journey.

“Nevertheless…” Thorin’s voice was much more calm now, causing you to look up at him and his stoic face. To your relief, there was no signs of disgust toward you, as you previously expected. “The truth is that you saved my life and therefore I owe you.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anybody, I swear,” you added. “I know it’s black magic but I thought that maybe (even though it sounds quite stupid right now) I could use it for good purposes. To help the others. Maybe black magic is only black when the heart of the user is such but under right circumstances it can be different.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Thorin nodded. “Yet you still have to learn a lot, little witch.”

“But we are willing to help!” Kíli interrupted suddenly.

“Not as a punching bags, of course, but still,” added Fíli. 

You giggled at their excitement and thought that surprisingly, purchasing the spell book was not as bad decision as you worried about.


	8. Ghost Stories (Thranduil)

You were never particularly fond of the centuries-old manor you used to live in with your fiancé. No amount of splendid decorations nor modern architectural solutions could stop the overwhelming feeling of being constantly watched, of every single of your steps being followed, of the shadows disappearing in the corner of your eyes whenever you were trying to catch them.

It was odd, considering the fact that Thranduil seemed to not notice any of those things, no ill energy, no suspicious rustles in the middle of the night coming from the floor below your bedroom, nothing strange. He was never the man you would consider as insensitive, on the contrary, under the cold mask of calculation there was a compassionate soul, the one you fell in love in many years ago. It did not took a lot of time for him to ask you to live in his house together—the great, luxurious mansion appearing to you like some kind of untouchable dream. And yet, there you were, sleeping in the soft embrace of the man you loved, in the place people could only dream of.

With the invisible eyes watching your every step.

“Is something bothering you, my love?” Thranduil asked one day, stroking your hair in a caring manner as your cheek rested upon his chest, the book still open in his hand. “You seem tense.”

At first you said nothing. It was the beginning of a wonderful, sunny day, the leaves of a maple tree behind your bedroom’s window shining brightly in gold and orange, the smell of tea and coffee prepared by the cook downstairs reaching your senses and causing your stomach to grumble in need. It was supposed to be your Saturday, the day where none of you were supposed to work and simply enjoy your time together.

If only not for the dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered and played with a long strand of his platinum hair, twirling it over your finger. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“I understand.” You felt his chest throb when he spoke and then the Adam’s apple to move when he swallowed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Bad feeling rather.”

“About?”

You frowned. Clarification of your worries was way harder than it seemed and immediately you thought that maybe getting into this subject was not the wisest idea. Supporting your weight on one elbow, you rose up and looked him in the eyes. There was a genuine concern, a will to help, and you wondered how people around you could be so blind to still consider him as ruthless.

“It’s just a stress,” you explained vaguely and kissed the corner of his lips. “No need to worry about, let’s go get breakfast, shall we?”

Whether he did not want to push you or respected your opinion, Thranduil did not ask any more questions. Still, he managed to successfully occupy your mind with kisses and delicious breakfast.

***

Walking up the stairs, you greeted the maid and headed forward to the dressing room to grab a coat before joining Thranduil on a stroll through the gardens. Although the weather seemed appealing from behind the windows, you quickly found out that it was rather cold once you stepped outside. Blowing wind tossed the fallen leaves all over the estate, giving the gardener a plenty of additional job.

Thankfully, spending the peaceful, completely normal morning with your fiancé was enough to make you lighten up a little, forgetting about the unpleasant incident. Perhaps you truly were overreacting; it was not the first time when your empathy gave you a wrong impression of what was going on around you and if you could only focus on something else, you could quickly realize that there was nothing to be afraid of. You were safe and there was a bright future ahead of you, full of wonderful surprises, marvellous adventures and never-ending love.

Smiling to yourself, you turned right on the first floor and went through the corridor, taking a mental note to take a pair of gloves and a scarf for Thranduil also, before you stopped abruptly and held your breath.

Cold sweat rolled down your spine as your mind was desperately trying to understand what you have just witnessed—to no avail. Frozen in place, you could only stare blankly at the portrait hanging on the wall, the one which has been there since the times of Thranduil’s grandparents. It was all the same as you remembered it; golden frame, heavy movements of brush against the canvas, mostly brown and copper colours used, green armchair appearing as soft and comfortable, roses blooming from the corners, however, now there was one detail missing.

The armchair was now empty.

***

“I swear to you, I’ve seen it,” you confessed, your trembling hand hidden in Thranduil’s, warmed up by his natural heat, as you led him to the first floor. “She was not there, the lady from the portrait disappeared as if she just casually stood up and went out of her painting. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true.”

Thranduil remained quiet, following you with the long steps until you finally reached the said portrait. Unexpectedly, you felt a wave of relief washing down on you as you realized that the lady was still not present, since you were afraid that once you will go and get your fiancé here, she might come back and therefore make you appear as a lunatic. You were not convinced if he would believe you in the story only.

His answer, however, was as stoic as he always was.

“I see…”

For a long moment, you were staring at the painting. With him by your side, there was new courage in your heart and eventually, you took a step forward, looking at the canvas from a different angle, hoping to maybe see her hiding behind the painted armchair. Naturally, she was not there and the painting was as flat as you could expect.

You peeked over the shoulder when you heard Thranduil walking away and quickly followed him.

“What are we going to do about it?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” You blinked in confusion. “There’s a living portrait in the house and we’re supposed to just ignore it?”

“What else should we do?” He raised an eyebrow and this question shushed you successfully.

Indeed, what should you do? Look for her? Where, on the on the other paintings, like in Harry Potter? Put the portrait down, so she would not have a place to come back to? Burn it? Every idea seemed to be more ridiculous than the previous one so you only shook your head in resignation.

You would gladly take a walk in the garden now, but first, you had to add few drops of bourbon to your coffee.

***

The lady came back on her painting next morning. She was sitting on her armchair in the same position, with the same, soft smile on her lips and you started to wonder whether yesterday happened at all. Thranduil confirmed your inquires to be true and although you still felt like in a dream, the life was going on. This time, however, everytime you passed the painting by, you were eyeing the portrait carefully, looking for any signs of movement, any proof that you were not crazy.

You and your fiancé equally.

She did not move for the next week but it was getting harder and harder to be glad about it, since various objects from the home started to disappear and appear in the same places some time later. First, your favourite mug, then Thranduil’s tie, a shoe, a key to the basement, porcelain figurine, 5th volume of the book series, a vinyl record and a single candle from the candelabra. None of the staff knew what happened and surprisingly, they were as shocked to discover the things reappearing as you were previously.

“Did that happen before?” you asked Thranduil one evening, while sitting by his side in the enormous living room by the fireplace. “Before I moved in, I mean.”

You did not have to explain the details to him, so he would know what were you talking about in an instant.

“Sometimes,” he sighed, still looking at the screen but now paying no attention to the film’s plot.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Why should I?” Corners of his lips turned up in a weak smile. “To scare you off with the ghost stories about my house being haunted?”

Fair point.

“Have you ever tried to… talk to it?”

He sent you a curious gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean trying to communicate. I’m no expert but things like that usually happen when they want something. When they’re lost or scared or lonely. Maybe that’s the way of getting our attention so we can do something about it, while we’re still here.”

Thranduil did not answer for a long time, staring blankly at the screen, completely lost in his own thoughts. When you started to wonder whether he will talk about it with you anymore tonight, he finally spoke again, his voice slow and quiet, barely a tone above a whisper. 

“My wife died many years ago. This place changed so much since she left, no current staff remember her and with every passing year, I’m remembering her less and less myself.” Rising a glass, Thranduil took a big sip of the wine but you decided to not interrupt him. It was the first time he has ever started to speak about her so elaborately.

You were aware that he was a widower, he has informed you about that at the beginning of your relationship, just in case you had anything against it. Still, he never spoke about her again as if he was avoiding this topic as much as possible, and you knew better than to start it. She was the love of his life and although at first it unsettled you, seeing the painful, tired expression on his face when he finally brought the subject proved you that there was nothing to be afraid of. His love for her was eternal but it did not lessen the depth of affection he had toward you.

Love was not a pool to divide between the people in certain parts, it was always different and always whole to give.

“She loved this house,” he continued. “She loved her son and she loved me. This place was filled with her love, completely. And truth be told, once she was gone, the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced was waking up one day and realizing that she’s not here anymore. As if she never existed, as if she was just a projection, a fleeting dream, a whisper on the wind… I could no longer touch her, feel her, hear her voice. She was as far away as the stars upon the sky, unreachable, unimaginable. 

Then, things like that started to happen, sudden disappearances but nothing harmful, just a simple jokes. Silly games. At first I couldn’t believe my own sight either but it was true and it was not evil. Moreover, it was as if she was still there, a soft reminder that I wasn’t mad, dreaming about her love, and the memories we shared were real.

I missed her every day and please, don’t hate me for that, but I believe I’ll miss her forever, too.”

It was rare to see the tears in his eyes and the sight was enough to make you feel your eyes burning also. Gently, you hugged him, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and stroking his hair, the bittersweet grief squeezing your heart harder than ever before. You loved him more than anything; you were willing to leave your homeland for him, to withstand his difficult, distant personality and eccentric behaviour and to devote the rest of your life for him knowing, that he will never be truly yours.

Holding him in your arms, weeping the tears of sorrow, you loved him more than ever before.

***

The last thing which mysteriously disappeared in the house was never found.

You were sitting with Thranduil by the long table and enjoying the delicious dinner, listening to the music playing and making plans about your upcoming wedding. Before the meal, you were looking through the album featuring variations of cakes, the one which included so many propositions that it was hard to pick at least five better than the others. You had a feeling that the preparations will take much longer than you previously thought, but the vision of marrying your fiancé was more than appealing.

“I’m afraid to even start a conversation about the decorations,” Thranduil added. “Perhaps it’d be wiser to simply hire someone to take care of it.”

“We’ll see. I don’t want anything to be missing on our special day.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll personally supervise the preparations.”

“That’s a relief.” You sighed dramatically. “Speaking of which, I have some good news for you. The earring, the one I was supposed to wear on the wedding, was found.”

Thranduil tilted his head to the side.

“Was it?”

“Yes. It was in the casket, just where I left it.”

“I’m glad then.” He smiled genuinely. “It would be a shame if I had to buy you multiple new pairs, just in case they got lost also.”

You giggled at that statement, knowing that he was capable of doing this just to make sure that nothing could interrupt your special day. Sometimes, you were starting to think that it was him who was more nervous about the whole act than you, even though he managed to hide it well most of the time.

Taking a sip of your tea, you eventually decided to not tell him about the last thing which seemed to be missing. There was no need to worry him, especially since you were certain that this one will not be found anytime soon. Your insecurity was, after all, the last thing which you wanted back, and the gentle smile of the lady in portrait ensured you that there was nothing to be uncertain about, not in the house, nor about the love of your future husband.


End file.
